


revelations

by novrik



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Implied Sexual Content, Implied vomiting, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sharing a Bed, egregious use of religious metaphors, let me know if there's anything else you want tagged, the implied sexual content is very much loosely interpreted it doesn't necessarily have to be sexual, there's one panic attack just one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novrik/pseuds/novrik
Summary: There is a god in his bed tonight, whose arms are wrapped around his smaller frame, whose breath ghosts the back of his neck, whose chest rises and falls in time with his own. There is a god in his bed tonight.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	revelations

**Author's Note:**

> PLS READ TH TAGS. i don't think anything in here is super triggering but just in case. please.
> 
> damn i haven't posted anything since last year i am So sorry............... if ur subscribed to me for kkir content or the kkir multichapter fic i hate to break it to u but uhhhhhhh i don't think im gonna work on that anymore:( might put out more kkir stuff doe dw
> 
> zzzzz anyways thank u for reading

_ "I have built, deep in my heart, a chapel filled with you." -  _ Marcel Proust

He is looking at the manifestation of God. Or a god. There is a strong compulsion in him to avert his eyes, get on his knees, put his hands together and whisper a prayer. He’s never more understood the devotion to religion until now. It first occurred when he had visited a church on vacation, and it was then, standing there in the middle of the pews surrounded by stained glass windows and the haunting sounds of the organ, that he realized why people turn to God. There is purpose and fulfillment in serving a higher power.

He would gladly serve at the every whim of Sawamura Daichi.

There is no greater irony in finding meaning to life because of nothing more than a boy, especially when Sugawara knows better than anyone just how human Sawamura is. He has been seen struggling and failing, hanging his head in defeat unable to be strong enough to win. Tell me, what god is this, this bare semblance of a boy looking like he is about to fall? Where is this god you speak of when all to be seen is a mere boy faltering at every step?

But look. Look at he who stands with his back straight and shoulders firm, confidence spilling from his lips, persistence in his eyes. The members of the Karasuno volleyball team follow him without hesitation and place their utmost faith into their captain. He believes in them just as they believe in him. There is something striking when faced with the sight of the Karasuno boys approaching you with Sawamura at the helm. He is unwavering and poised with the grace of any deity. Sugawara, his high priest, walks in step behind him. He defers to Sawamura in a way that makes you unnerved, and you swallow hard to get rid of the dry feeling in your throat. Sawamura’s pleasant demeanor only unsettles you more.

This eighteen year old boy stands above you, and with your head hung low, you accept the terms of defeat. He steps off the court, and instantly the rest of the team follows. You are left with chills at how easily Sawamura commands power.

And the boy, the boy who believes he is just a boy in comparison, falls into tandem with that god.

//

His alarm clock reads 2:00 AM. Suga blearily rubs his eyes and picks up the call that woke him up.

“Hello?” he mumbles.

“Suga,” comes the voice on the other end, the sigh of relief obvious. He knows Daichi to the point where Suga can see him sitting cross legged on his bed, shoulders going up and down with the breath of his name.

The thought of Daichi calling him and feeling relieved when he picks up wakes Suga up from his sleepy daze. He is suddenly wide, wide awake. He thinks he knows Daichi. After all, he knows him well enough to picture him, but after almost a year of friendship, Suga is unable to come up with a reason why Daichi is calling him in the middle of the night.

“Are you alright?” he asks in a soft tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daichi answers, “just a nightmare.” He tries to play it off with a chuckle of nervous laughter. Suga knows better than that at least.

“Clearly it’s not  _ just _ a nightmare if you needed to call me,” he reasons.

Daichi is silent. Suga does not push. The space between them reminds Suga of when he stood in the center of that church, tipping his head back to be able to see the imposing arches leading into a ceiling of grandiose. He is about to hear the organs. He is about to see the light spilling through the stained glass windows. He is about to find a new revelation.

Daichi sighs audibly through the phone. “I dream a lot. Most of the time they’re okay. The usual weird shit, but every once in a while…”

His voice trails off, and Suga doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Daichi was going to say. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offers.

“No,” comes the immediate reply. Panicky, Suga thinks.

  
“No,” Daichi amends, slower this time. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Suga says amicably. “What do you want, then?”

“I… I want—” Daichi struggles to find the words. “Talk to me, Suga,” he decides. “Please.”

“About?”

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Please.”

So Suga talks. It is a little bit difficult being put on the spot, but he says the first thing that comes to mind. Daichi makes a sound of contentment spurring Suga to continue. He learns that the baby faced boy suffers from nightmares and that hearing someone else’s voice puts him at ease. He learns that even hearing the most mundane things is like putting aloe vera on a burn for Daichi’s fears. Suga learns that behind the natural born leader there is but an afraid boy, hesitant to reach out.

When Daichi’s breathing evens out into deep sleep, Suga breathes a prayer. He closes his eyes, dips his head, and prays.

_ If You are real, let Him sleep. _

Two years later, Daichi’s ringtone is now a common occurrence for Suga. He expects the 2 AM call, the shakiness of Daichi’s voice, the “hey, tell me a story? please.” Sometimes, he will tell Suga about the nightmare, the details making Suga’s skin crawl. 

_ She sits on my chest and stares at me.  _

There is nothing sitting on you. You are here with me, you are real, she is not. 

_ I died, and everyone forgot me. _

I could never forget you.

_ It is pitch black, and it fills my throat, my lungs. I’m drowning, _ Suga _ , I’m drowning. _

You are not drowning, you are not drowning. There is nothing in your lungs, there is nothing but air. Daichi, Daichi, listen to me. You are sitting on your bed. It is 3:15 in the morning. You are on the phone with me, and you are listening to my voice. We have school tomorrow. There is practice after. We are going to have some three on three matches. You and I are going to—

_ Suga, what would I do without you? _

This time Suga does not have an answer for Daichi. He is left at a loss for words. Sawamura Daichi who stands like he is at the top of the world, an immovable force at an insurmountable height, clinging to Suga, a boy who is just a boy and nothing more. Suga, just Suga, who is not even the team’s main setter, who is loud and effervescent, who is barely keeping it together to be moral support, is Daichi’s,  _ Sawamura Daichi’s _ , lifeline. The thought leaves him with his blood rushing, fingers tingling, a shiver running down his back.

He laughs through the phone filling Suga’s heart to the brim with warmth. 

_ I would be a wreck without you. Thanks for picking up _ .

Any more nice things and Suga’s heart would spill over. His feelings weigh heavy on his tongue. He doesn’t know how to tell Daichi “I love you,” so Suga settles for a simple “goodnight.” The phone clicks with the end of the call. Suga sets his phone back on his nightstand, pulls his blanket back up, and closes his eyes.

_ Sleepy easy, I love you _ .

//

Practice is distracting. It is unbearably distracting. Pray tell, how is Suga supposed to keep his head in the game when Daichi stands in front him in a low squat, thighs flexing and ass out? His shoulder blades shift as he steps forward to receive the ball, and Suga has to bite the inside of cheek, hard. It takes him everything to keep his eyes on the ball (and not the peach in front of him). He’s vaguely aware of everyone’s place on the court, and Daichi has called out, so Suga sets the ball just the way Daichi likes it. He’s played with him long enough to know what Daichi feels comfortable hitting. Suga relishes in the resounding smack the ball makes when coming into contact with the floor.

“Nice!” Daichi calls out, his hand out for a high-five. Suga grins and smacks it as hard as he can.

Daichi rolls his eyes at Suga’s childishness. The game resumes and so does Suga’s concentration. The upperclassmen end up winning the set against their juniors, 25 - 22. Coach Ukai calls for a break.

Suga flops onto the chairs, exhausted. The metal is cold against his skin, a relief he is unable to quantify. Daichi stands over him with a water bottle in hand. Suga watches the sweat drip from his brow along his cheekbone to his jaw. The gears in Suga’s brain are whirring away. Daichi pulls his shirt up to wipe away the excess sweat, and the gears stop whirring. Daichi has filled out since Suga met him as a scrawny boy. His shoulders are broad, his biceps strain his sleeves, his stomach ripples with the indication of muscle, his thighs could crush a watermelon, and oh fuck, his tiddies are big.

Oh god, Suga wants to put his face into his best friend’s chest. Oh god.

He stares into the ceiling lights with the revelation, cheeks pink. Daichi’s voice shakes him out of his stupor.

“Huh? Yeah I’m good,” Suga says.  _ Not like, I’m thinking about motorboating your tiddies or anything. _

“Huh, okay.” Daichi offers Suga the water bottle he had drunk from earlier. “Drink.”

Suga sits back up and takes the bottle. He swallows the rest of the bottle (about half) and hands it back to Daichi with a cheeky grin. The captain sighs good naturedly and takes it back.

“Must I always throw things away for you?”

“Thank you, Captain!” Suga calls out in return.

Practice ends, they clean and lock up the gym. Suga sneaks glances at Daichi when they’re changing in the locker room. The sight of Daichi’s bare back is too much for Suga to bear, so he turns his head away.

“C’mon, let’s get buns before going home.”

“Yes, yes, Dai-kun,” Suga agrees. He quickly closes his locker and hastily makes his way to catch up with Daichi.

The captain wrinkles his nose. “Don’t call me that.”

Suga laughs. He doesn’t see how Daichi whips his head to stare at him with wonder. “Why not? It’s cute.”

“My mom calls me that,” he grumbles.

“Exactly.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“You looooove me,” Suga counters. Daichi’s lips stretch into a smile.

“Hm.”

“Oh come on,” Suga whines. He pokes a finger into Daichi’s side. “Say it. Say you love me.”

Daichi’s laughter fills the air and with it, Suga’s heart. It is a joyous sound that warms Suga from the soles of his feet to the tips of his fingers. It puts Suga at ease in a way that he can only describe as the feeling of being home. It is a sound that touches Suga deep in his soul and makes him yearn, makes him ache, makes him crave the touch of Daichi.

“I loooooooove you, Suga,” he complies.

“You sound fake,” Suga snarks and flicks at Daichi’s cheek. He immediately makes a run for it. Daichi laughs harder, Suga’s heart keeps spilling over, and he delights in having Daichi chase after him.

It begins to rain after they buy their buns. Suga’s house is closer, so they run in that direction. Their uniforms are soaked by the time they reach the gate. Suga’s mother immediately rushes them in. She clicks her tongue as the boys drip all over the front door.

“You two need to take a shower before one of you catches a cold. Daichi-kun, if this rain gets any worse, tell your parents you’re staying over alright?”

“Yes, Sugawara-san,” he complies.

“Koushi, let Daichi-kun shower first okay? He’s a guest,” his mother instructs.

“Oh no, it’s alright. I can wait for Suga to go first.”

Suga rolls his eyes and pulls on Daichi’s arm. “Stop being such a good boy and take your shower.”

As soon as they pass the threshold of Suga’s room, Suga strips off his uniform, the feeling of wet clothes on skin to be left much undesired. Daichi sets his stuff down and heads for the bathroom. The shower turns on. Suga goes through his closet for some clean clothes. He shivers in the cool air. He finds what he is looking for: clothes Daichi had left the last time he slept over. There’s a pair of boxers, something Suga is relieved about. He highly, highly doubts Daichi’s hips could fit in his underwear. Something else left in the pile of Daichi’s stuff catches Suga’s eye. He smirks, pulls it on, and leaves the room to dump their wet uniforms into the dryer.

Suga, decidedly drier than ten minutes ago, is sitting on his bed as Daichi walks out. He looks up from his phone. A mistake. His friend stands in the doorway of his bathroom clad in nothing but a towel around his waist. It’s like what had happened at practice but bass-boosted. Water droplets trickle down the hard planes of Daichi’s bodies. Suga’s brain really cannot handle looking at Daichi’s Greek god-esque body without short circuiting. That’s right, the gears have been replaced with electrical wires for the sole purpose of going  _ zzzt! _ burnout.

“Put on a shirt will you?” His mouth opens without any sort of thinking.

“I would but you have it,” Daichi answers smoothly.

Suga looks down at the clothes in his lap. “Oh. Right.”

He stands up and walks over to hand the clothes to Daichi, now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Suga doesn’t dare look down at where the towel hangs off his friend’s hips.

Daichi’s face scrunches together. “What?” Suga asks.

“That my hoodie you have on?”

Suga smiles. “Yeah. Mine now.”

Daichi shrugs, nonchalant. “Keep it. I like the way it looks on you.” And he takes his clothes from Suga, closes the bathroom door to change, leaving a very embarrassed Suga left behind.

Suga keeps the hoodie on after he showers.

“Are you staying?” he asks as they make their way to the kitchen for dinner.

Daichi hums in assent. “Just texted my mom. She says hi to you.”

“Tell her I said hi and that I miss her.”

“Koushi, set the table please?” his mother calls out. “Dai-kun, you can just sit.”

“Yeah, Dai-kun,” Suga repeats teasingly, “just sit.”

Daichi groans. Suga laughs. Dinner is good.

Suga has a full sized bed meaning the both of them definitely fit. They’ve slept on the same bed together before, so it isn’t a new concept, just that Suga is hyper aware of Daichi’s presence. Daichi settles in while Suga grabs an extra blanket from his closet. He awkwardly clambers over to get the side touching the wall and tucks himself in next to Daichi. Suga closes his eyes. He opens them. He feels cold, even in the hoodie.

He can hear Daichi murmur, “Are you cold?”

“Yes,” Suga breathes out.

“Okay.” And Daichi scoots closer to wrap his arms around Suga. He closes his eyes. It’s warm.

“Is this okay?” Daichi asks, right into Suga’s ear.

“Yes,” he whispers back and falls asleep.

There is a god in his bed tonight, whose arms are wrapped around his smaller frame, whose breath ghosts the back of his neck, whose chest rises and falls in time with his own. There is a god in his bed tonight.

“Daichi, wake up, wake up,” Suga whisper shouts while gently slapping his face.

He wakes with a start, the tears streaming down his face. He blinks in bewilderment. He opens his mouth to breathe, but he can’t breathe, and the look of panic on his face breaks Suga. Suga deliberately begins to breathe slowly—in for four counts, hold for seven, and out for eight—and Daichi begins to match, the oxygen reaching his lungs again.

They’re sitting up, but Daichi reaches out for Suga. He closes his eyes and buries his head into Suga’s shoulder. Suga speaks in a low tone as he rubs the tension out of Daichi’s back.

“You were shaking.” He presses hard into Daichi’s shoulders.

“You are here with me, Sugawara Koushi. You are here in my bed.” The circular movement of his palms into Daichi’s back has become repetitive.

“It’s about one in the morning. It’s raining outside. It’s raining hard enough that you stayed over. You took a shower first. You texted your mom. We had dinner together.” Daichi is visibly more relaxed.

“We did homework together. You helped me with calculus. I helped you with English. We washed up and got ready for bed.”

Daichi’s breathing is even again.

“Tell me about our college plans.”

They’ve shifted to where Suga’s back is against the headboard, and Daichi’s head is in his lap. Suga runs a hand through Daichi’s close cropped hair. He peers up at him.

“We’re gonna go to college in Tokyo. We want an apartment together. You will cook and I will clean. We will make fun of that rooster haired bastard together. There’s that coffee shop we want to go to study at. You will order an iced americano while I order an iced latte.”

Daichi keeps looking at him. Suga keeps talking and lets his lips ramble nonsense about the future. Suga drops his voice and leans down so Daichi can hear. He is still looking.

The god in his lap flips over and turns into the god in his bed whose lips are touching his own.

He is falling, he is sinking. He is drowning at sea, the depths of the ocean continuously submerging him. The pressure on his chest sits like a rock. _Save me Save me Save me_ , he prays. This god hears him and answers his prayers. This god pulls him from the water and gives him life, gives him purpose, meaning, fulfillment. His sins have been forgiven, and he is reborn anew.

When Daichi pulls away, he looks into Suga’s eyes in a way that makes him feel like it is just him and Daichi that exist in this world. His heart will not stop beating, and his blood is on fire, and Daichi continues to stare. Suga swallows. Good Night.

When his breathing evens out at last, Suga dreams of blinding white boyish smiles, the tickle of close cropped hair, calloused palms. He dreams of ever expansive tanned skin, the slopes of broad shoulders, the tense of muscle in toned thighs. He dreams and dreams of a boy so close within his reach yet so despairingly far. 

How does one keep a god?

_ “Praying to the Lord above to get you through the night / You can stay with me tonight” - _ Ieuan _ , Saint California _

//

Gods were not supposed to fall. Or were they? You have heard the tales as old as time of mere mortals rising up and challenging the gods and winning. It is your turn.

You stand on the court and suffocate in the immense pressure. Everyone is watching you. Everyone is depending on you. You and the other five players on the court hold the hopes and dreams and desires of the world on your shoulders. But He stands in your path. He stands, immovable and insurmountable, preventing you from going forth. Sweat trickles down your brow, your breath grows increasingly raggedy, your thighs burn with exhaustion, but you must press on, you must. You do not think about the fear clogging your throat, you cannot afford to. You rack your brain for an answer, you force yourself to go into overdrive, you make a play, any play.

And the god falls. He crumples to the ground, and time stops. You breathe a sigh of relief. You are one step closer to becoming an immortalized myth. 

Suga stares wide-eyed. Bile rises in his throat, and he can feel his stomach churning with nausea. The panic rises in him like waves crashing on the beach; if Daichi cannot play, who will lead them to victory? But Daichi gets up because he is a god, but Daichi spits out into his palm a tooth and blood, red blood. Suga had half believed if you were to cut Daichi, blood the color of liquid gold would spill out. Ichor is the blood of the gods, but Daichi bleeds red, he bleeds red like any other mortal human.

Suga closes his eyes, mouths a prayer, and steps onto the court.

It is the end of the game, and once again, you kneel in defeat. Sugawara Koushi, His high priest, looks at you with eyes that chill you to the marrow of your bone. Instinct washes over you making you want to tuck tail and run. Provoke the wrong god, and you will receive the appropriate consequence.

Today is not your day. You are not the challenger, you were never the challenger. The old gods of Karasuno have returned. You humbly accept the loss and crown the new victor. The crows, they hunger, they hunger far more than you ever could. You see your foolishness now, for this story was never about you. Be grateful you even appeared at all.

This is not a myth about a mortal rising to the challenge of a god. It is the legend of gods once forgotten, reduced to their bare humanity, seeking their place at the acme of the heavens. In their absence, you’ve forgotten, but that’s alright, you’re forgiven. 

Do try and remember this time.

//

Defeat tastes bitter in a way Suga could not fathom. It lingers on his tongue, fills his throat, sits in the depths of his stomach. He wonders if sticking his fingers in his mouth would get rid of the acridness. 

He closes his eyes. Here, about to reach the summit, they fall. They fall back to Earth and crash into the ground hard. He opens his eyes. Reality is cruel and disappointing.

But he is a believer, and his faith does not go unrewarded. Daichi kisses him, and Suga revels in the feelings. His lips are soft, and he tastes like ambrosia and nectar, or Suga is just being superfluous in his regret filled state.

However, if there is anything Suga is sure of, it is that he no longer feels like choking on the astringent in his mouth. Instead, he let himself get drunk on Daichi, the sweetness making him go heady. He does not want to stop, he does not even care about breathing, he just wants to taste and taste and taste. He can see the light through the stained glass, he can hear the haunting sound of the organ. Ah, there is the inkling in his mind that perhaps he shouldn’t have let himself get intoxicated with the flavor of a god, but to hell with mentally healthy behavior, he is having an epiphany.

“Koushi,” the god reverently breathes out.

_ “ _ _ And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me / Before this ends up as another memory” -  _ Wallows _ , Are You Bored Yet? _

//

“I look at you and my breath catches every time. How did I, a boy, just a boy, get so lucky?”

That isn’t true, it’s actually the opposite.   
  


“You are an angel, my angel. So perfect, so beautiful.”

He closes his eyes and savors in the praise despite the crawl on his skin.

“I would worship at your feet.”

He opens his eyes.

“Koushi, I love you. Koushi,  _ I love you _ .”

His breathing goes ragged.

//

You shy your eyes and move out of the way. You peek out of the corner of your vision for a glance. The sight of them makes you freeze in your tracks. So this is what it means to be in the presence of the gods. Your fingers shake. You do not want to grace Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi with your existence. The thought makes you squeamish, and you scuttle off in fear. 

For they are gods, the two of them are gods.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated
> 
> when i tagged egregious use of religious metaphors i meant it. anyways there wasn't any real plot to this i just wanted an excuse to use excessive metaphors in hopes i leave you many thoughts head full (which i felt inspired to write after i read my friend's sakuatsu fic you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624875) it's really really good trust me)
> 
> uhhhhh talk to me on twitter @[K1NGKHUN](https://twitter.com/k1nghun) i post art sometimes and i scream a lot about haikyuu (kghn, krkn, dsg, and lately a lot a lot of sakuatsu)
> 
> the last two quotes are from songs, i highly highly recommend you listen to


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